


Bloodname

by Lelline



Series: For the love of Jack [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Character Death, Dark, I'm Sorry, M/M, Murder, Murder Soulmarks AU, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-22 10:55:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4832765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lelline/pseuds/Lelline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On your 16th birthday, a name could appear on your skin. That name belonged to a certain person, a person who would change your life forever.<br/>When you met them, one of you would kill the other.</p><p>Jack had never wanted it. Never wanted the curse on his arm to come true.<br/>And then he met Ryan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodname

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Silverstring for beta-ing this <3\. Give her all your love.

No one knew when it was that people began to bear the names on their skin.  
It wasn't ever mentioned in the old books. Shakespeare never used them as a plot device, but by the Victorian era there were creams and pastes invented just to cover them up.  
It was a simple concept, though how they could exist bewildered every scientist, every doctor. On a child's 16th birthday, a name might appear on their body, with their own ending up on someone else. The marks were never wrong, they were destiny. These were bloodnames.  
They meant that one day, one of the two people would kill the other.

Jack generally tried not to think about it, though he couldn't avoid the curse entirely. He himself was obviously marked, with a name written just above his elbow. A bloodname was considered a curse, a guarantee that you would either live a criminal or die too soon. Up until a few decades ago, if you were marked you wouldn't be able to get into post-secondary education. Up until 50 years ago they weren't able to vote.  
Now people were more accepting, especially towards people who would obviously end up the victim. Scientists worldwide studied the phenomenon, trying to find a way to either stop the marks from appearing or to make the marks show who would live and who would be innocent.

Ryan was one of those scientists. It was how they had met. Jack had volunteered for a study, signed up to test the bloodname on his arm and see if they could break it, prove it wrong. The study had been a failure, the results inconclusive and one of the subjects had run into his match and been killed, upsetting most of the others. It should have scared Jack, should have terrified him since the name on Geoff’s neck….  
It should have terrified him that his killer had been so close, but he was never scared anymore. He was just angry. Angry at the cards he’d been dealt.  
Angry that the study had been postponed. Angry when people questioned if it was ethical to experiment on people like that. Angry that people would prioritize the comfort of the dying over the chance at saving them.  
Jack just wanted to live. Wanted to live without having to kill anyone else. Jack just wanted Ryan.

Ryan kissed him for the first time in his lab. It was just days after Jack had somehow become an assistant instead of a lab rat, and Jack had accidentally botched up labelling samples. He had stumbled over an apology, offering to stay late and fix it by himself. Ryan just smiled, and tugged him in by his lab coat. It felt natural sliding into each other’s arms, though it was odd to realize that Ryan was smaller than him. The scientist always seemed so dramatic, so full of life, that it was strange for him to fit so easily in Jack’s arms.  
"We'll both stay late." The scientist murmured softly when they had barely parted the kiss to breathe. The lab had fallen silent beside the buzz of machinery and Jack could hear only his heartbeat in the space between words. "And then we will go out to dinner."  
“Dinner sounds amazing.” Jack admitted, breath hitching as Ryan leaned in for another kiss.

The sex was amazing.  
Ryan always seemed to want to take him apart and put him back together again. He was careful never to harm and never to scare, but he always pushed Jack's limits. He seemed intent to ruin the bearded man forever, to claim him completely. But what had made Jack fall in love with him were the little things.  
Ryan always fumbled over words when he was trying to make a point, he always smiled a little too wide, he never remembered to put the clothes in the dryer and he constantly complained about cold feet, even wearing socks to bed. Jack only ever saw his feet when they showered, though he never really bothered to do much more than glance at them. 

Jack had been the one to propose. Ryan had been the one to start the relationship, so he had figured it was his turn to be the brave one and further it. And Ryan made him brave. Ryan made him want to live. Ryan was his sun.

Ryan said yes.

Their wedding had been beautiful. They'd married on a cruise ship just off the coast of Hawaii, both men sunburnt and tipsy. Their photographer, Gavin, had strangely disappeared about halfway through the ceremony, taking his camera and film with him. But Ryan was a fast thinker, so they had a few iPhone photos to remember the day by.  
That night on the cruise ship was a blur of alcohol, but even the following hangover hadn’t dampened their mood.  
The police did.  
Gavin’s body had been found stuffed into a lifeboat, the british man found strangled to death. The cops had interviewed everyone, but it was obvious they seemed to suspect Ryan and Jack the most. They were the last ones to see the Brit, and Jack was marked (even if it wasn’t the right name).  
Ryan rose up though. Ryan talked the cops out of whatever they were planning.  
Jack had nearly been overwhelmed, but Ryan’s grip on his hand guided him through it all. They had been able to leave and go back to Texas alongside another marked couple, a puerto rican named Ray and his redheaded boyfriend. Ray had tittered on for hours on the plane home. They’d met at a convention just a few weeks before, Ray having won the cruise tickets in a tournament.  
Ray’s bloodname was on his calf, visible below the shorts he wore, and it made Jack feel nauseous to see the familiar name.  
The looks the redhead had given them had been chilling. He had insisted on not giving them his first name, not wanting anyone to know if he was their match. That had make Jack nervous, especially since the curly haired man seemed so loud and so strong.  
Ryan hadn’t seemed to notice the animosity, and Ray seemed intent to ignore it. The scientist offered to let the two younger men come back with them. “I’ve got some experiments to run. You would be helpful to have closeby.”  
“What the fuck does that mean?” Ray’s boyfriend asked, scowling.  
“Just that.” He said. “I’m a scientist. I’m trying to figure out how your marks work…” His own hand skimmed over the name on Jack’s skin. “I have an invested interest in breaking the cycle.”  
“We do too.” Ray admitted, giving his lover a soft look.  
Jack and Ryan let them stay in their guest room, and all that week the four spent most of their time in the lab, trying to find a cure.

 

“I love you.” Ryan had murmured to him on the eighth night, kissing him goodnight. “I’ll just be going out to get some fresh air. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”  
Jack nodded, knowing their lack of results were weighing heavily on Ryan’s mind. The other pulled away and disappeared sometimes, wandering off when he realized he was obsessing over his work. It cleared his mind. The man could have easily been considered mad, truly, but Jack knew him. Ryan would never hurt anyone. Ryan was amazing.  
Jack wasn’t surprised when Ryan wandered back in close to four hours later. The scientist had showered and changed before coming back, now smelling fresh and clean. Jack pulled him in for a kiss, not surprised when it quickly became more passionate.

The younger couple had disappeared that night, leaving the newlyweds behind without even a note. Jack had frowned at the news, already missing the two. He had almost started a tentative friendship with the redhead, though he had quickly gotten tired of not knowing the man’s name.

They had tried to forget the rough uncertainty of the first few months of their marriage, had tried to act like they weren’t certain that Ray and the other man had ran into their murderer. They went out to plays, went out to dinners, went camping once or twice even if they barely even left their tent.  
After a long weekend out at a bed and breakfast, they came home to see a familiar figure sitting in their kitchen. It was hard to recognize the man, his flesh badly burned, his curly hair gone.  
“I fucking knew it was you.” He had spat. “I knew it. I knew I’d seen you that night, that night on the boat. The night Gavin died.”  
Ryan had stiffened, trying to keep Jack behind him. “You’re… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
“Of course you don’t.” The man said, reaching under the table. When his hand reappeared, there was a dirty pistol in his hands. “I saw you that night.”  
Ryan’s grip on Jack had been too tight. “Lets run.” The bearded man reasoned. “He’s… Hes insane.”  
“You’re Michael.” Ryan had said. “You’re Michael aren’t you? The one on Jack’s arm.”  
“Yeah.” Michael spoke, raising his gun. “My name is there because I’m going to fucking kill him.”  
Jack flinched, but didn’t dare to hide behind Ryan. The other didn’t need to suffer for his curse. He expected a gunshot. Instead there was the sound of metal sliding through flesh.

Ryan had held Jack afterwards, kissing his face as he tried to calm Jack down.  
“How?”Jack asked, trying not to look at the corpse sitting at their table.  
Ryan had thrown his pocket knife. Had somehow pulled out, opened and tossed it at Michael fast enough and skilled enough to kill the younger man before he could even shoot.  
“How did you kill him?” asked Jack, “You’re unmarked, you can’t be a murderer.”  
“I couldn’t lose you.” Ryan just murmured back, voice trembling with emotion, “I couldn’t let him kill you, but I couldn’t bear to watch you become the murderer you never wanted to be. It was the only way”  
Jack had to swallow down the urge to laugh, his emotions on the fritz.

No charges had been laid. Michael had shown up to their home armed and ready to kill. The bullets from said gun matched those found in Ray’s body a few days later. He had also been on the cruise ship the night Gavin had died.  
But Jack knew better. Jack knew what had really happened, though he tried not to think about it. He tried to forget it, knowing that it was easier to pretend Michael had done it all.

On their third anniversary, tucked into a hammock on the beach, Jack finally let himself ponder out what had happened. It was too warm that day for either of them, but they were feeling too lazy to swim. He had no idea of why they kept going to exotic places, neither of them enjoying the sun that much. Still, it was the rare chance to see Ryan’s bare feet, the skin pale from always being covered. Jack had massaged them earlier, feeling the surprisingly soft skin beneath.

Ryan had published their story. The two of them had been on talk shows, had had movie companies arguing over the rights to make their lives into some love story, some action movie, some horror movie. The scientist and his accursed love. The man who would do anything to protect his husband from a madman.  
And maybe Ryan had saved him. Maybe killing Michael would have destroyed Jack.

But killing Geoff hadn’t destroyed Jack.

He had been nervous, yes. The older man had had no idea that this Jack had been the right Jack, that he should have been warier when he accepted the offer to go out for drinks.  
But Jack had met Ryan. Jack couldn’t let Geoff kill him..  
And then there had been Gavin, the photographer meeting Jack at his own wedding. And again, the brit hadn’t expected anything but...  
Jack had knocked him out first, not wanting to watch the light go out in his eyes as he died. The kid had been like a puppy, enthusiastic. He had gotten the perfect shots of their wedding. But his eyes had been so sharp, and Jack had worried he would figure it out...  
Jack saved the film from the wedding, though he would never get it developed. He wasn’t brave enough for that. He wouldn’t want to have to explain how he’d gotten it.  
Ray had been... easier, somehow. The puerto rican had only given him a defeated smile when he had approached him. The younger man had probably known that it would happen one day, especially since he seemed less cautious about it as his friend.  
Ray’s death was a quick one--shot, using a gun Jack had obtained on the black market. He’d been careful to time it just right, time it so that no one else was around. So that he could drag the body into the the massive bags he had on hand for cleanup.  
He had been careful to plan it out. But he had to do it. If Ryan was able to tell that Ray's mark belonged to him...  
But he hadn’t known what to do about the other. He hadn’t know what to do about the redhead still asleep in the guest room until he’d seen the name written on the man’s shoulder.  
He was marked with Jack too.  
Jack was clumsy, had strangled him with a pillowcase and then dragged him off to a bridge. He’d planned on throwing them into the river, but there had been a firepit. He’d thought it was a good idea.  
He heard screams as he left, but he had thought they were just his imagination. Hadn’t ever expected Michael to still be alive, trapped under his dead lover’s body in the flames.  
But in Ryan’s mind, he had saved Jack. And Ryan would never know about the other three. And Ryan would never know that under the beard, Jack’s face was a picture of guilt. Under the beard three more names were written, Geoff, Gavin and Ray.

And Ryan never learned the truth.


End file.
